


Touch Me (I'm a Celebrity)

by kanoitrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fashion Show, Frottage, M/M, Model Castiel, Model Meg, Multi, Musician Dean, New York City, Overdosing, Public Sex, Singer Ruby, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I asked if you wanted to come back to my place, Dean." The way Dean's name rolls off Castiel's tongue sends a spark of wanting through Dean, and he can't deny that he isn't attracted to the other man. Castiel is damn near perfect; of course he is, he's a model. But there's something about the combination of perfectly mussed hair, lean muscle, and lazy grin that just sets Dean on fire. There's something magnetic about Castiel, something Dean can't explain.<br/>**<br/>In which Dean Winchester is a newly signed, still green behind the ears musician who is new to the Big Apple, Ruby Genz is the wildly famous and popular pop star that takes him under her wing, Castiel Novak and Meg Masters are well respected models. What follows is Dean's rapid introduction to the industry and all its trappings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, like I don't already have enough WIPs, but I've had this planned for ages and finally just couldn't keep putting it off anymore.
> 
> As always, huge thanks to my lovely beta, pharocomics.
> 
> Also, special mention for viscouslover for looking over the first bit of this chapter and being an awesome source of moral support.

The air in the club is muggy, hot, and heavy with sweat and sex. The thrum of music is bone rattling, loud enough so that people have to be in each other's personal space to hear each other, even if they don't particularly want to be that close. The strobe lights flashing blue, red, white, green, blue overhead are an epileptic's worst nightmare.

It's the most cliché thing Dean has seen since moving to the City, a scene right out of every awful sitcom and movie set in New York, and Dean loves it.

"Welcome to your first Hollywood party," Ruby calls into his ear, all but resting her chin on his shoulder, smiling like the cat that got the canary as she waits for his assessment.

Dean turns to her, and yep, they're way closer than he would ever be to Ruby otherwise. He squints down into her face that keeps disappearing every other second with the flash of the strobe lights. "But we're in New York."

Ruby's cat with the canary grin just grows wider, fittingly ruby red lips parting to expose whiter than white teeth. "But it might as well be. You've hit the VIPs, kid." As she says it, she runs a hand down his arm, and if Dean didn't actually  _know_  Ruby, he'd swear she's hitting on him. But he does know Ruby; she's been his best friend and pseudo-mentor since he moved here and they met that first day in the studio. He knows she isn't hitting on him, mainly because he knows she doesn't swing that way. It's just Ruby being Ruby.

His eyes travel up from her hand back to her eyes. "I get the distinct feeling you shouldn't say that, though. Aren't New Yorkers pretty renown for being protective of their... New Yorker-ness?" Dean is starting to feel out of his depth, at least more than he already was.

Ruby throws her head back in a laugh, smile split wide open now, and even though he can't quite hear her laughter over the steady bass, the movement alone is mesmerizing. Or maybe that's just an effect of the strobe lights.

Then her chin is back on his shoulder, her hands holding onto his bicep and forearm as he's acutely aware of the dig of her nails (also ruby red) into his skin, and she's purring into his ear, "Just how many people here do you think are  _actually_  from New York?"

It's a good question, but obviously a rhetorical one, as before Dean has even had time to mull it over, Ruby is giving him the answer. "News flash, it's not a lot. These are all people who came into the city to make it big, just like you. Only difference is that they've already made it."

Dean knows that's true, that he could never get into this place on his own merit. Not yet, anyway. He won't be riding on Ruby's coat tails forever, though, the fact that she took him under her wing a testament to that.

"Don't worry, though. Pretty soon it'll be you holding parties like this." As Ruby slides her right hand the rest of the way down his arm and into his hand, lacing their fingers together, Dean thinks he will probably never throw a party quite like  _this_ _, but_  it's a nice thought.

"Now come on, there's people I want you to meet." And then she's pulling away and leading him by the hand through the crowds.

Dean tries to take in the surroundings, the  _people_. He tries to see if there are any faces he recognizes through the haze and bouncing light, but it's impossible to tell for exactly those reasons. It sets his heart to racing to think about just  _who_  could be at a party like this. Never mind that he's well on his way to being one of them; that he's in the process of recording his debut album under the same label as  _Ruby Genz_ ; that said label is already talking about planning his first tour. He isn't one of them  _yet_ , and just potentially being in the same space as anyone important or famous is enough to make his palms sweat. Thankfully, Ruby is kind enough to never mention it.

He wonders who Ruby wants him to meet. It could be anyone, anyone who does anything. Ruby has been in the business awhile and knows plenty of people. Part of the reason Ruby is Dean's best friend here is that she is in fact his  _only_  friend in New York. He hasn't met anyone else yet, other than the people that work in the studio and for the label, but none of them had given Dean the second glance that Ruby had. She's been good to him so far.

"Who are we meeting?" Dean shouts.

Ruby taps the index finger of her free hand against her ear and then waggles it back and forth in the air- she can't hear him.

Left to wonder, then.

Ruby leads him through the whole bottom floor of the club, twisting and turning through people until they reach a staircase with a velvet rope across the bottom and a bouncer next to it.

"He's with me," Ruby purrs, saccharine smile bringing a blush to the bouncer's cheeks as he lifts the rope to let them through. Dean is hardly through when the bouncer puts it back down, so close to it still that he can actually hear the click of metal on metal.

Ruby turns on the steps and crowds up into Dean's space, breath ghosting across his face as she pseudo-whispers, " _Extra_  VIP." And then she turns around again and is leading him once more.

At the top of the stairs, there's a door, and when they walk through it it's like a whole new club- the music more sensual and the lighting more ambient, soft greens and blues that don't temporarily blind you on every skipped beat. When Dean unconsciously squeezes Ruby's hand, she just gives a reassuring squeeze back. Then she drops his hand entirely.

Ruby turns on the balls of her feet, her heels far too preoccupied by four-inch pumps. She crooks her finger at him in a come hither motion. When she says, "Follow me," though, it's in complete contradiction with her seductive demeanor. She sounds happy and light, and it brings a smile to Dean's face.

"Oh, I get the choice now?" he jokes with a casual shrug of his shoulders as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Ruby smiles her first  _actual_  smile of the night. "No, I just thought I'd let you feel like you did."

Dean laughs, head tilting back with the force of it.

"Now come on, Toto, before I leave you behind," Ruby says coyly, and so Dean follows her and her ruby red pumps down the metaphorical yellow brick road, curious to see who the wizard is at the end.

They walk to the corner of the room where a plush, leather couch lines the wall, curving into the corner and continuing on, a couple of people lounging upon it in various stages of amory. There are coffee tables placed in front of the couch that bear all sorts of beverages and food and personal items. People are loitering around them, as well.

Dean doesn't notice any of those people, though, not the ones on the couch nor the ones around the tables. His eyes are immediately drawn to a gorgeous couple that are just slightly off to the side of the couch. They're both sinfully tall, which sure, Dean is tall, but these two are all leg and elegant expanse of neck and arm. They both have dark hair- the woman's a beautiful, chocolatey brown that tumbles down her shoulders in waves, while the man's is almost black and styled into the most perfect sex hair Dean has ever seen. They're both standing poised and straight, the perfect picture of superiority.

He spots them while he and Ruby are still halfway across the room and about has a panic attack when he realizes that's where they're headed. He kind of wishes Ruby were still holding his hand so that he could make her stop, pause,  _hold on a minute_  while he gets his bearings. However, no such luck because before he can fully get his  _oh shit these two are hot, I hope they aren't together (or if they are, they at least let me join)_  feelings under control, he's standing in front of them.

"Dean, meet Meg and Castiel," Ruby says, gesturing first to the woman and then to the man. "Meg, Castiel, meet Dean." Ruby then gestures to him. As Meg and Castiel rake their eyes up and down him, studying, judging, Ruby supplies, "Dean is one of the newer artists on the label."

Meg's purple-stained lips spread into a predatory grin; if Ruby's smile is like the cat with the canary, Meg's is the lion with the gazelle. "New to town then," Meg purrs, her voice all lilting highs and lows and purely hypnotic. She walks around to his unoccupied side, surveying him as though he's a sculpture in a museum, something to be critiqued and picked apart. It's unnerving and sends chills up his spine, chills that are not altogether unpleasant. "Trying to make it big in the Big Apple?" The hypnotic quality of her voice is much stronger up close.

"I bet you came with your own guitar and everything," Meg says, and even Dean can tell she's laughing at him.

Irritation beats out infatuation, and Dean snaps back, "So what if I did?" He's glaring down at her, but she doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. Instead, her predatory grin just spreads wider, some sort of twisted amusement flashing in her eyes.

"It's cute, is all," Meg purrs, leaving Dean feeling completely infantilized. She slides her gaze past Dean and onto Ruby, yet Dean still somehow feels he's the one under the microscope. "Ruby came to town with a guitar of her own, too."

Dean whips his head around to Ruby, searching for verification. Ruby is staring back at Meg, her expression strained, but unreadable to Dean. "I didn't know you could play," he says. Ruby is a pop star; Dean has never seen or heard of her doing anything besides singing.

"Oh, Ruby can do more than just play guitar," Meg purrs beside him, but his eyes don't leave Ruby's face as the singer's expression continues morphing even further from something Dean can comprehend.

"Then why don't you?" Dean asks.

Ruby's attention finally turns away from Meg and onto Dean, and she simply shrugs, a dainty, all-too-practiced movement, as she smiles wanly up at him. "Didn't fit the label's image for me."

"That's such bullshit!" Dean barks.

"Ah, Deano," Meg's lilting voice echoes in his ear, as she slides a hand down his arm. He isn't sure if it's meant to be placating or not, but it stops him in his tracks, electric tingles running up and down his spine from the feel of her flesh on his. He turns to look at her, and perhaps he appears as startled as he feels because the predatory gleam in her eyes only intensifies- a hunter on the prowl. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid. When the label tells you jump, you don't ask 'why?' You ask, 'how high?"

"Leave him alone, Meg." Dean has almost forgotten about Castiel until the other man speaks, voice rough and thrilling, every bit as enthralling as Meg's.

Meg smirks haughtily at the male model, hand on her cocked-out hip. "Afraid I'll scare him off?" she asks, clearly finding humor in Castiel.

Castiel gives a lazy smile back, and Dean can't remember the last time butterflies railed so hard against his gut.

"Maybe I am, Meg."

She laughs. "Well, well, well, I see how it is, Clarence. Pretty boy here shows up, and I'm old hat, is that it?"

Castiel smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know you could never be old hat to me, Meg."

Meg's expression softens, the whole gesture changing her countenance. "No, I suppose not." She looks around Dean to Ruby. "I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway," she tells the singer. "What do you say we let Clarence here take care of Deano for the rest of the night?"

Ruby glances up at Dean. "Only if you're okay with it," she says, but Dean can tell she really wants him to say yes. Surprisingly, he really wants to say yes, too.

"Yeah, that's fine, go ahead." He offers Ruby a reassuring smile, one which she returns, gratitude brilliantly shining through. "Cas and I'll be fine."

Castiel raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Cas?"

Dean is definitely not blushing (and even if he is, the lighting of the club will surely hide it). "Got a problem with that?"

Castiel looks him up and down, assessing him. The lazy smile never falls off his face. "None at all."

"Good." Dean can't explain the sudden rapid beating of his heart.

"Good," Castiel echoes.

Silence falls between them, only the steady thrum of music remaining between them as the rest of the world falls away.

Ruby clears her throat, a soft cough-cough kind of noise, and it's enough to snap Dean out of whatever trance Castiel held him under. He quickly looks to Ruby. "You sure you'll be fine?"

She smiles up at him, pure confidence. "Dean, this city is my playground. I'll be perfectly fine."

Meg leaves his side to stand in front of Castiel, and as she cups one of the man's cheeks and places a kiss to the other, Dean tries to squash down the irrational jealousy he feels.

"See you at the shoot tomorrow. Don't stay out too late, now," Meg purrs fondly.

"Same to you," Castiel says, staring adoringly into Meg's eyes.

And then the moment is over, Castiel placing a hand on Dean's arm to turn him around and head back out to the club proper, saying, "Come on."

Dean looks over his shoulder, seeing Meg and Ruby shift closer to one another, body language completely open and honest. Dean's never seen Ruby look so  _real_.

Dean and Castiel head down the stairs, and Dean once again finds himself assaulted by the blare of the beating bass, so loud it drowns out everything else. Castiel grips his arm once more, and Dean's skin sears from the contact as the model leads him out of the club. Dean doesn't even try to take it all in this time. This time, he's only focused on the heat of Castiel's skin through his own shirt.

And then they're out on the street, the music from the club falling away, and the chill, evening air causing a shiver to run through Dean.

"So want to head back to my place?"

Dean jerks in surprise at the question, staring at Cas with wide eyes. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to come back to my place, Dean." The way Dean's name rolls off Castiel's tongue sends a spark of wanting through Dean, and he can't deny that he isn't attracted to the other man. Castiel is damn near perfect; of course he is, he's a model. But there's something about the combination of perfectly mussed hair, lean muscle, and lazy grin that just sets Dean on fire. There's something magnetic about Castiel, something Dean can't explain.

Castiel crowds up in Dean's space, mere inches between them, so close to touching, yet not. The proximity should make Dean feel uncomfortable, should perhaps remind him of the predatory mannerisms of Meg, only that is doesn't. Instead, it feels close and intimate. Dean can feel Castiel's body heat through their clothes, and once again it's just the two of them, the rest of the world falling away.

This close, Dean is for the first time finally able to see Castiel's eyes. He thinks they could be gorgeous, if the small rim of bright fucking blue is anything to go by. He thinks they could be gorgeous if only his pupils weren't blown unnaturally wide.

"You're on something," Dean whispers, voice low and hoarse from wanting and nerves.

Castiel's hand slips around the back of Dean's neck, a slow, sensual movement that sets Dean's skin ablaze. "Everyone is on something at these kinds of parties," he whispers, breath ghosting across Dean's lips and causing his heart to skip a beat.

"Fair enough," Dean mutters, so quietly, so focused on Castiel's pink tongue darting out to wet dry lips, that he doesn't even know if he actually says it or just thinks it. But he knows he's utterly lost, falling forward to capture the other man's lips in a desperate kiss.

Castiel pulls away, hand still around the back of Dean's neck and still impossibly close, looking thoroughly pleased. "I'll hail us a cab."

* * *

Castiel, of course, lives in a fancy high rise, not that Dean has much opportunity to take it all in. The two are unable to keep their hands off each other once they're sequestered away in the cab, fruitlessly pawing at each other while sharing sloppy kisses. When they reach Castiel's apartment building, Dean is pretty sure he hears Castiel tell the driver to "keep the extra change, for decency's sake." Hush money.

They walk past the doorman civilized enough, but once the doors to the elevator shut, they're on each other again, and this time with a bit more rutting involved. Dean doesn't see which floor Castiel pushes, but he imagines it must be pretty up there considering their elevator makeout session lasts a good, long while.

They stumble out when the elevator dings their arrival to their destination, limbs all tangled and lips barely parting. How they actually make it to Castiel's door without falling, Dean isn't sure. Getting into the apartment is a whole other story.

"Need to unlock the door," Castiel mutters against Dean's mouth, teeth nipping at Dean's lips.

"No one's stopping you." Dean is tightly gripping the other man's slim hips and firmly rubs their cocks together, eliciting moans from the both of them.

"I beg to differ," Castiel gasps out, and through the pleasure, Dean can make out clear amusement. "There seems to be a rather attractive musician standing between me and the door." He slides his hands under Dean's shirt, nails raking up his sides.

Dean growls into the other man's mouth, lifting Castiel effortlessly, the slimmer man's legs instinctively going around his waist, and slams Castiel against the door, lips latching onto the pulse point on the model's neck.

"Problem solved," Dean growls around the skin under his teeth.

Castiel gasps sharply before squeezing Dean's shoulders in warning. "No marks. Have a shoot tomorrow." And if the reminder disappoints Dean any, he at least takes solace in how breathless the man is when he says it.

It's enough of a dousing of cold water for Dean to put Castiel down, though, allowing the other man to turn around and unlock the door. This also allows enough time for Dean to admire Castiel's ass, and shit if it doesn't look like a work of art. He could probably write whole albums about Castiel's ass. Or maybe that's just his dick talking right now.

Castiel finally gets the door open, and Dean is no sooner inside than Castiel is slamming him against the door, crashing their lips together and making quick work of Dean's belt and fly. A deep groan is dragged out of him as Castiel's hand slides under his boxers to wrap around his dick and give a firm tug, thumb sliding over the slit and smearing precum across the head to use as lube as he starts jacking Dean off.

"Bedroom?" Castiel asks, and Dean can feel the teasing smile against his own mouth.

"Fuck yes," he groans in reply, head leaned back against the door.

Castiel pulls away with the command, "Follow me." For a moment, Dean thinks the guy may actually lead him through the apartment by his dick, and he almost thinks he wouldn't completely mind it.

Instead, he gives Dean's dick one more stroke before backing off completely and walking away, pulling clothes off as he goes. Dean is almost jealous that he doesn't get to do the unwrapping himself, but getting to watch the play of muscles under the man's skin is enough of a prize to abate the feeling.

Dean follows suit, removing his clothes as they walk, so that when they finally make it to the bedroom, they're both already completely naked.

Castiel turns on the spot, wrapping one arm around Dean's waist and placing his other hand on Dean's cheek to angle him down for a kiss.

Dean groans at feel of his own slick cock rubbing against Castiel's, and he seeks out more friction, hands going to grip at Castiel's waist as he grinds against him.

Castiel moans wantonly against Dean's mouth, tongue slipping into the musician's mouth to tangle with his own, fingers gripping tightly in Dean's hair as Castiel lets him rut against him.

Castiel pulls sharply on Dean's hair, taking the man by surprise and wrenching his neck back. Castiel's lips go right to the juncture of Dean's neck and jaw, and it's all teeth as Castiel nips bruising kisses into Dean's flesh.

He turns Dean around, pushing the taller man back towards the bed until his knees hit the mattress, legs then buckling underneath as he falls down onto the bed.

Castiel, towering above Dean with his hand still tangled in Dean's hair, commands, "Lean back against the pillows," then releases his hold.

Dean is quick to acquiesce, scooting up the bed so that he is half sitting up, half laying down against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Castiel climbs onto the bed, falling gracefully to his hands and knees, crawling up towards Dean, until he is straddling his lap. Castiel places a firm, probing kiss to Dean's lips, Dean tilting his head back to allow Castiel all the power in the exchange. When Castiel pulls back, he gives the musician a sultry smirk before leaning sideways to pull open a drawer in the bedside table. When he sits back straight, he produces a bottle of lube and a condom.

Castiel shimmies back down Dean's lap, leaning down and forward so that his face is hovering just over Dean's cock and his ass is up in the air.

Castiel stares up into Dean's eyes, light from the city outside reflecting sharply in the blue and black. Dean can't help but stare back. His cock twitches in anticipation when he hears the bottle of lube snap open with a sharp  _shnick!_  He watches as Castiel reaches a hand behind himself, watches as he sinks a finger into his tight hole, watches the expression of discomfort change to one of bliss as he gets used to the intrusion and starts pumping the finger in and out slowly.

When Castiel's hot mouth sinks down onto his dick, Dean about bucks up off the bed, only held back by Castiel's surprisingly strong hand on his hip. Dean throws his head back with a groan as Castiel bobs up and down, tongue doing little figure eights along his dick.

Dean whines when Castiel pulls off.

"Look at me, Dean," he commands, and Dean is helpless but to follow the directive. Castiel is staring up at him, intensity etched into his face, and it's enough to take Dean's breath away. "Don't ever look away from me," Castiel says.

Dean is drunk on the feeling that this beautiful, successful man is going going down on him, opening himself up for him, wants to be with him. It's more than Dean knows what to do with.

He nods and says, "Always."

A pleased, little smile spreads across Castiel's face, something so painfully real in the expression. Then he's flicking his tongue against Dean's slit, probing at the soft flesh there. Dean lets out a guttural sound, but fights the urge to close his eyes, to throw his head back in bliss. He keeps his eyes firmly glued on Castiel.

He watches as Castiel licks sloppily up and down his shaft as though it's a lollipop. He watches as Castiel adds the second finger to his hole, moaning in pleasure at the oh-so-good burn. He watches as Castiel scissors himself open as he swallows Dean down, down, down his throat, all the way to the hilt. He tangles a hand into Castiel's hair when he moans around his dick as he slips in the third finger. Never once does he take his eyes off the beautiful man before him, and just when he thinks it's too much, just as he thinks he's about to cum down the model's throat, Castiel pulls off with an obscene pop, meeting no resistance from Dean's hand still tangled in his hair.

Dean groans at the sight of Castiel's swollen, red lips still connected to his dick by a thin strand of saliva. Castiel gives him a lazy, toothy smile, pressing a kiss to the tip before sliding his fingers out of his own ass and sitting back on his haunches.

Dean continues watching as Castiel tears open the condom wrapper and slides the latex onto Dean's weeping cock. He watches Castiel's face, eyes staring back at him as well, as Castiel lubes up Dean's member. Their eyes never leave each other as Castiel crawls into Dean's lap, even as he leans down to press his swollen lips to Dean's. Even as Dean groans at the taste of himself on Castiel's tongue, his hands going to rest on slim hips to steady Castiel as he slides down  _so fucking slowly_  onto Dean's dick, Dean never looks away from blown out, blue eyes.

"Shit, Cas," Dean gasps out once he's fully seated in Castiel.

"Call me that again. Call me that always," Castiel whispers, demands, as he slowly rocks back and forth on Dean's cock.

"Cas Cas Cas Cas Cas." The name spills out in a litany as Castiel picks up the pace, hands sliding up Dean's chest to grip at his shoulders and ride him in earnest. All Dean can do is hold onto sharp hip bones, help guide the snap of his own hips, as he stares into Castiel's eyes, repeating the nickname like a prayer.

When Cas's back arches, muscles tight as a bowstring as he breaks eye contact with Dean, a pleasure cry erupting from his lips, Dean knows he's hit that spot inside Cas that makes fireworks go off.

He tightens his grip on the sharp, angular hip, hips that make for the perfect handles, and snaps his dick up into the tight body atop him, hitting Cas's prostate every time, wrenching pleasured screams from the man until finally, nails raking down Dean's chest hard enough to mark, Castiel comes with a cry of Dean's name, white painting his stomach.

Dean keeps thrusting, fucking Cas through his orgasm, coming not long after with his own shouted litany of "Cas Cas Cas."

As he comes down from the high, Castiel collapsed bonelessly against him, Dean can't help thinking he just had what was very likely the best sex of his entire life with a male model he met in the VIP lounge of an already VIP club.

New York lifestyle, indeed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You never called me,” Cas says, and he doesn't sound accusing, doesn't sound mad. He simply sounds intrigued, like it's a remarkable feat that Dean accomplished by not contacting the guy. Dean supposes he could see where that may be true. After all, how many guys are stupid enough to turn down hot models who are great in the sack? Could someone remind Dean again just why he let Ruby talk him into that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [pharoqueen](archiveofourown.org/users/pharoqueen) for betaing, and thank you to the ECKC for moral support and oo-ing and ah-ing over the porn lol.

The next morning, Dean wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, with the early morning sun shining through unfamiliar blinds into an unfamiliar room. He stretches out under the most comfortable sheets he's ever felt in his life, the only thing bothering him being that the bed has a cold, empty spot where an incredibly hot model once laid. He grunts in tired frustration as his blind, tired search for another body comes up empty. With a groan, he rolls onto his back, blinking blearily up at the ceiling until his vision clears.

In the light of day, Dean can appreciate just how nice the room is, even if it's a bit modern for his tastes. The whole thing is decked out in a monochromatic color scheme- white blinds; gray walls; silver-y carpet; gray bedding; shiny, black furniture. Honestly, Dean finds it a little depressing, even if the furnishings of this room alone probably cost more than everything in his place combined.

With another stretch and one last groan, Dean pulls himself up and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He can't help wriggling his toes in the plush carpet, enjoying just how soft it is. He scans the room to find his clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser. Cas must have collected it all for him this morning, which leaves a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. He must want Dean out quickly. It isn't until he's standing right in front of the dresser that he realizes there's a note on top of his clothes.

_Dean,_

_Sorry I had to run out, but early shoot this morning demanded it. Feel free to stay as long as you want. I wouldn't mind coming home to find you still in my bed. If not, I will hopefully see you another time._

_Castiel_

_P.S. I put my number in your phone. You really should have a lock on it._

Dean's face is burning crimson by the time he's done reading. Not that it's explicit, but he can just hear Cas's rough voice saying it, see the little smirk playing on the guy's plush, pink, kissable lips, blue eyes lighting up with amusement.

He shakes the image out of his head. There's no use in getting turned on now. He quickly gets dressed and then checks his phone. Sure enough, there is a new contact added-  _Cas_.

_"Call me that always."_

Dean shakes his head again. Fuck, he needed to get his head on straight. Spending all day fantasizing about a male model riding his dick isn't going to be helpful in getting any work done. Unless, that is, if he writes that album about Cas's ass. The thought has him smiling in amusement. It wouldn't be the worst idea he's ever had.

He looks at the clock on his phone- 7:26 A.M. He's supposed to be at the studio in an hour.

If he heads home first, he'll definitely be late, but Cas lives a lot closer to the studio. It'll probably take him fifteen minutes tops to get there. He could hang out here for awhile; after all, Cas had given him full permission to stay as long as he wanted. Somehow, though, skulking around the guy's apartment when he isn't there just seems creepy.

He decides he'll stop by somewhere and get some breakfast before heading into work. He'll still be early, but there's nothing wrong with that. Let the label think he's extra dedicated instead of just doing the walk of shame.

* * *

Dean finds Ruby already occupying the kitchen when he gets there, head buried in the fridge and looking drastically different then she had last night at the party. In place of the sexy, all red ensemble, she's wearing yoga pants and an oversized hoodie.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says by way of greeting, leaning against the counter as he takes a bite out of his bagel.

Ruby emerges from the refrigerator with a box of cold, McDonald's fries. Dean grimaces at the them.

"You know you have a problem, right?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, and instead stares at him intently. Slowly, a wicked grin spreads across her face. "You sly dog, you!"

Dean hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tries to pull of casually.

Ruby just rolls her eyes. "Right, because I wouldn't notice that you're wearing the exact same clothes as last night, plus some extra wrinkles in them."

"I have a very limited wardrobe," he says defensively.

She snorts in amusement and shakes her head. "Seriously, drop the act. It's not like I blame you. Hell, if I swung that way, I would be all over him, myself."

Now Dean knows he's blushing. Ruby just laughs. "So I guess I don't need to bother asking you if you had a good time last night."

Dean scowls at her, the effect apparently completely lost by how deeply he's blushing if Ruby's continued mirth is anything to go by.

"So tell me all about it," she instructs, sliding into a chair at the table and munching on a fry with apt attention pointed at Dean.

"Not much to tell," he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact.

"I find that incredibly hard to believe," is Ruby's sardonic response.

Dean refuses to answer, instead going back to his bagel. Ruby waits quietly for him to give her the details she wants, but when he doesn't, she says, "You give me no choice then."

Dean gives the extremely intellectual response of, "Muh?" around his bite of bagel, looking up and realizing in horror that Ruby has pulled out her phone.

* * *

"Meg, Ruby's calling you," Castiel says with a glance towards the woman's bag sitting on one of the chairs littering the shoot site.

Meg pulls out her phone, letting the sultry beat of Ruby Genz's biggest flop play on instead of answering it.

"I don't know why you insist of keeping that as her ring tone, she hates that song," Castiel scolds.

Meg smirks at him. "I think you just answered your own question." When the song clip starts over, she swipes the screen to accept the call. "Lucky you, Ruby. You caught me during one of my very precious breaks. What is it I can do for you?"

"Did you know that your boy and my boy hooked up last night?" Ruby asks.

Meg raises her eyebrows suggestively at Cas. "I did not. Clarence, why didn't you tell me you took Deano home last night?"

"Regardless of what you think, Meg, you don't know every aspect of my life," Castiel snips.

Meg huffs, smirk never faltering. "Right, keep telling yourself that."

"I'm gonna take that as he didn't tell you," Ruby says from the other side of the line.

"Not even a hint, and he's being a big baby about it now," Meg responds, continuing to watch Castiel as he scowls at her.

Meg just smiles at him, saying, "Oh really, Ruby, you don't say. Dean hated it that much?"

"Stop that!" Cas growls, snatching the phone from her, Meg doubling over in laughter once he takes it.

Cas places the phone to his ear. "Hello, Ruby."

"Hey, Castiel."

"So Dean told you about last night?"

"Didn't have to when he showed up to work all ruffled and still dressed the same."

Castiel grimaces. "I wasn't aware he needed to be into the studio today. I would have woken him up."

"Well isn't that sweet. So unlike you," Ruby chirps.

Cas frowns. "I'm plenty sweet."

She laughs into the phone, a pretty, delightful sound. "I know, I know. You're as endearing as a box of kittens."

"I somehow feel like that's an insult."

"It's whatever you want it to feel like."

"Meg! Castiel! Breaks over, come on!" one of the assistants shouts from where the set up is.

"Tell Dean to call me," Cas says quickly, completely without thought, before hanging up and stashing Meg's phone back in her bag.

Meg looks at him as though she's never seen him before. " _Call you?"_

"Don't start," he grumbles, stalking off to the set. Meg shrugs behind him.

* * *

After a few false starts during Dean's morning recording session, all 100% his own fault, Dean has to push Cas as far from his mind as possible. It isn't easy at first, but as he gets more into the music, he eventually forgets all about blue eyes and perfect hip bones. He manages to not think about Cas at all until they break for lunch. Then he's stuck staring at his phone as though it has offended him as he distractedly eats his lunch.

Ruby slides into the seat across from him. "So Castiel gave you his number?"

Dean doesn't answer, and instead raises stares at her in disbelief. "You're still here!?"

"Yes, I'm still here," she grouses, snatching a fry from him.

He looks between his food and his friend, an expression of utter betrayal on his face. "You have a problem!"

Once Ruby finishes chewing, she settles him with a look that is two parts curious to one part concerned. "So are you going to call him?"

"I hadn't decided yet." A beat passes. "Should I not?"

"I never said that." Her expression doesn't change though.

"Ruby, I'm serious. If you know something, you better tell me."

Ruby heaves a tired sigh, which could either mean it's bad or that she's just tired. Dean wouldn't be surprised if she didn't sleep at all last night, what with her six A.M. recording slot and all.

She smiles wanly at him. "Don't get me wrong, I like Castiel, he's a good friend, just..." She bites her lip contemplatively, then settles him with a determined look. "Don't you think you should focus on the album? You've got big things coming your way if you work hard. I'd hate to see you miss out because of some guy, even if that guy is someone I really like." She pushes back from the table and stands up. "I'm just saying, that from a professional standpoint, now might not be the best time to be exchanging numbers with guys."

Dean looks at his phone and can't help feeling disappointed because he knows she's right. He came to New York to make it in the big times, not make it in hot guys. When he looks back up at Ruby, she's grinning manically at him.

"Must have been one hell of a lay, though. He  _never_  gives out his number."

Dean blinks owlishly before shouting, "Damn it, Ruby!" as she runs out, laughing the whole way.

* * *

Dean takes Ruby's advice and deletes Cas's number from his phone, focusing wholly on his work. It's probably for the best because even if he hadn't, he stays so busy that he would have never been able to see the guy anyway. He wishes he could say that he completely forgets about Cas in that time, but that proves basically impossible. However, he does manage to keep all thoughts of the model confined to  _very_  specific times. Almost a full month passes before he's made to think about Cas anywhere beyond the confines of his apartment.

He's packing up for the afternoon, getting ready to leave the studio for the day when Ruby walks in and leans oh-so-too-casually against the doorjamb.

"Want to go somewhere with me?"

Dean regards her suspiciously. "Yeah, because that isn't shady."

She rolls her eyes in that over-exaggerated way she adopts whenever she deems that Dean is being difficult.

"Ruby, just tell me where you want me to go." He's finding it difficult to keep his patience with her today, ready as he is to go home.

"If I tell you, you're just going to call me a hypocrite and say no," Ruby whines, and it reminds Dean of his friend Charlie back home and when she didn't get her way when they were kids.

"Ruby!" he snaps. "Just spit it out!"

Ruby scowls petulantly at him for a moment longer before finally huffing out, "Fine!" However, her silence continues.

"Well?" Dean prompts.

She gives an over-exaggerated sigh. "I'm meeting Meg and Castiel at their shoot so that we can go out for dinner."

Dean narrows his eyes at her. "I thought you told me I shouldn't hang out with Cas."

"I  _said_  I didn't think you should be getting involved with  _anyone_  right now. I didn't say you couldn't have friends."

Dean continues staring her down until, finally, he cast his eyes to the side in uncertainty. "I never called him."

"I'm sure he's over it," she says with a smile. It honestly doesn't make him feel any better.

* * *

Dean hears the  _click-schnik-click_  of a camera shutter before they even reach the set.

"Are you sure it's okay we're here?" he whispers.

Ruby looks at him like he's an idiot. "Why are you whispering?"

"I just uh... I figured that's what you do on a set?"

"A movie set, sure. But this is a photo shoot. You don't have to be that quiet." She rolls her eyes.

"Well how am I supposed to know," he grumbles.

An excited call of Ruby's name stops them in their tracks, and a young man runs up to them.

"I haven't seen you around in awhile!" he says with a broad, sweet smile.

Ruby smiles back. "Been working on a new album, Alfie."

Impossibly, the kids grin gets even bigger. "Awesome! I can't wait to hear it."

"I'll get you a signed copy," Ruby responds with a wink. "Now, are Castiel and Meg still in the shoot?"

"Yeah! But you can go on in."

"Will do, thanks. Nice seeing you again, kid." Ruby gives a small wave before walking on, Dean following after a beat.

"Who's that?" he asks.

"Alfred Samandriel. He's the personal assistant to Abaddon Knight."

"Abaddon Knight? That famous photographer?"

Ruby looks at him with raised eyebrows and a grin. "Look at you! I'm impressed."

Dean can feel his cheeks heating up. "Yeah, well, she does a lot of the photos in  _Rolling Stone_."

Ruby laughs. "Well, you're in for a treat, then."

The set itself is much simpler than Dean would have imagined, much quieter, too. There was no hustle and bustle of assistants running around or gaggles of snooty models waiting their turn. There are only two people sitting off to the side at styling stations who Dean can only assume are a makeup artist and a stylist; a woman with flaming red hear pulled back in an intricate bun snapping pictures; and then in the center of the room, spotlights shining on them, are Meg and Cas.

It's probably the most erotic scene Dean has ever seen. Cas is completely sprawled across an ornate chaise, looking perfectly disheveled with his arms thrown behind his head and completely naked but for a sock covering his dick, piercing blue eyes, bluer than Dean ever could have imagined, staring into the camera. And sprawled on top of him is Meg, cheek resting atop crossed hands on Castiel's chest, the only clothing on her a tiny, flesh-toned G-sting and a giant, diamond bracelet, though Dean assumes there are also some pasties involved in the ensemble.

It all knocks the breathe out of Dean and makes his pants feel a little tighter because sure, he's  _really_  into Cas, and now he's getting to see the guy in almost all his glory in good lighting, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find Meg hot as hell, too. She may be a little less curvy than most girls he would be interested in, but there's something about the predatory gleam that constantly burns deep in her brown eyes that draws him in like a moth to the flame, alluring but equally deadly. Putting the two of them together, all made up to look like they've just had great sex that somehow still leaves them unimpressed with each other? Well, it makes not a hell of a lot of sense, but Dean is down for it all the same.

"Shit," he exhales breathlessly. Except it must not be as quietly as he first thought because the snapping of the lens shutter abruptly stops, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ruby shooting him a coy look.

The red head, who must be Abaddon, slowly lowers her camera, every move calculated and sure, and turns to Dean and Ruby with a murderous glare.

As Dean feels about to piss his pants, a sultry smile just spreads across Ruby's face as she says, "Hey, Abbie, what's up?"

The glare immediately fades off Abaddon's face, replaced by something much more friendly. "Ruby," she purrs, "I can only expect you're here for these two?" She tilts her head back minutely to where Cas and Meg are still laying on the chaise.

"Oh, Abbie, you know I always have time for you," Ruby simpers.

Abaddon throws her head back with a short bark of a laugh. "Well, lucky for you, I think it's just about time we took a short break."

Ruby pouts pitifully, and the whole display honestly makes Dean want to gag a little. "You mean you guys aren't done yet?" she asks.

Abaddon scowls, and while it's nowhere near as frightening as her glare, it's still enough to make Dean uneasy. "We would be done," Abaddon says slowly, words drawn out through gritted teeth, "if  _somebody_ ," here she shoots a glare at Meg, "knew how to be on fucking time."

If Meg hears her, she doesn't give any indication that she cares.

Ruby smiles sympathetically. "I understand that scenario all too well. Why don't I have Alfie run across the street to grab us some coffee, and you can use the break to unload on me."

Abaddon gives the younger woman a pleased smirk, suggestive enough that even Dean is blushing to the roots of his hair.

"I'd like that very much, Ruby." She turns to Meg and Cas and shouts, "Take twenty you two!"

"Twenty!?" Meg shouts, lifting herself to hover over Castiel's chest. "We're never going to get out of here at this rate!"

"Should have thought of that before being late," Abaddon chides.

Meg glowers at her before swinging herself off the chaise. It's all Dean can to do quickly avert his eyes, ridiculously wanting to maintain some modicum of decency.

When he sees Meg's bare feet approaching, he finally looks back up to find both she and Castiel are wrapped up in fuzzy, white robes, similar to the kinds high end resorts and spas give out.

Meg has her brown eyes trained on Ruby, big and doe-like, bottom lip pushed out delicately. "Will you get me something to eat to tide me over until we can get to dinner?"

"I'm stealing her away for coffee, Meg," the photographer says smugly. "You'll just have to find someone else to make your food run." The way she says it, Dean's pretty sure there aren't exactly other options.

Meg's expression turns unreadable, eyes flicking between Abaddon and Ruby, while said singer bites her lip nervously.

When Abaddon moves to Ruby's side and slides her arm around the younger woman's waist, Meg's expression smooths out into the schooled blankness every model seems to sport by default.

Leaning down to speak almost directly into Ruby's ear, Abaddon says, "Let's go find Alfie."

Ruby hesitates only for a split-second, giving Meg that odd look Dean's seen her give the model twice now, before nodding and walking off with Abaddon.

Dean searches for something to say to Meg as the model stares after the departing couple, expression carefully blank. He comes up with little more than a cautious utterance of her name before she huffs, turning the other way and storming off. He feels his throat close up completely when he sees Cas walking towards him, looking after Meg briefly before training shocking blue eyes on Dean. Dean feels a flush crawl up his neck as Castiel's commands from almost a month ago echo around in his brain-  _Don't ever look away from me_. Dean's starting to become pretty certain he couldn't even if he tried.

Cas is watching him, studying him, head tilted just to the side as he stares at Dean, almost seeming to stare straight through him, and Dean is realizing that looking at Cas in the daylight is a lot different than looking at Cas in shitty club lighting and darkness. The guy is still sex on legs, but the God-like aura seems to have melted away. Or maybe that's just the lack of drugs, if the normal sized pupils are anything to go by.

"Walk with me?" Castiel asks, and Dean is helpless to do anything but nod.

He follows the man back through a tiny hallway behind the shoot site and leads him into what Dean can only guess is a changing room going by the racks and racks of clothing. He walks in ahead of Cas, who hangs back by the door, and takes it all in.

"Seems a little strange to have all this stuff in here when you're doing a nude shoot," Dean says, trying to place some levity to his words. When he turns to face the model, Cas is leaning against the now closed door, staring Dean down as though the musician is some sort of alien creature.

"You never called me," Cas says, and he doesn't sound accusing, doesn't sound mad. He simply sounds intrigued, like it's a remarkable feat that Dean accomplished by not contacting the guy. Dean supposes he could see where that may be true. After all, how many guys are stupid enough to turn down hot models who are great in the sack? Could someone remind Dean again just why he let Ruby talk him into that?

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, uh... Sorry about that. I've been pretty busy. Time just kind of slipped away from me, I guess."

Castiel smiles at him, but it's odd, not the kind of smile that shows on his mouth, it's the kind of smile that shines purely through his eyes, all amusement, like he finds Dean's answer quaint and cute. For some reason, it goes straight to Dean's dick.

"Want to make it up to me?" Castiel asks, the smirk finally becoming ever-so-slightly perceptible on those plush, pink lips.

"Do they put lipstick on you for these shoots?" Dean asks dumbly, and he could kick himself.  _Time and place, Winchester! When hot as fuck models are propositioning you in changing rooms is definitely not it!_

The smirk spreads fully across Cas's face, flashing pearly white teeth. When he speaks, it's with a soft chuckle in his tone. "They do, actually. Do you like it?"

And God help him, but Dean definitely does like it.

Castiel steps into Dean's space, slipping a hand around the back of Dean's neck, leaning in so that his breath is ghosting across Dean's lips as he says, "Does seeing me in front of the camera do it for you?"

Dean can't help leaning in for a kiss, the response automatic, Castiel's warmth drawing him in like a magnet, but Cas stops him, placing the pads of his fingers against Dean's mouth.

"Sorry, Dean, still in the middle of a shoot. Can't risk messing up the look."

Dean lets out a low groan in frustration that chokes off into one of pleasure as Castiel starts rubbing the palm of his hand against Dean's half-hard cock through his jeans.

"Is this what I do to you, Dean?" Cas asks, so close Dean can feel the man's body heat. Cas grips Dean's wrist with his other hand, guiding him past the fabric of the robe, brushing Dean's hand against his own erect member, and Dean's breath catches. "You do the same to me," Cas whispers.

Dean wraps his hand around Cas's dick, thumb roving over the slit to spread the precome accumulating there. Cas gasps, and Dean wants nothing more than to move into it, swallow the sounds straight from Castiel's mouth. The fact that he can't only serves to heighten every sensation further- the smooth velvet of Cas's skin in his hand, the coarse rub of denim against his own straining dick, the heat of Castiel before him, perfect and untouchable.

"So I can look but not touch," Dean murmurs into Cas's ear, and Cas lets out a breathy chuckle.

"You can keep touching me, Dean, just not anywhere else." Dean can hear the smile in the model's voice.

Dean moans deep in his throat, and Cas just gazes at him with a hazy smile, breath catching with every stroke and twist and flick of Dean's hand. Dean wants to tell Cas how beautiful he looks like this, how sexy, how perfect, lips parted as he heaves in little hitched gasps, eyes half-lidded, head tilted back just enough to expose the perfectly tanned skin of Cas's neck, only he's sure it's all things Cas has heard before. Dean doesn't want to be just another guy in a long stream of men. Dean wants to stand out, it's all he's ever wanted, and with Cas the feeling is only multiplied.

"So I can touch you  _here_ ," Dean emphasizes it with a twist on his upstroke, ripping a choked moan from Cas, "however I want?"

Cas offers him a heady grin. "How is it you want to touch me, Dean?"

Dean grins back, untying the cord around the robe easily before falling softly to his knees and pushing the fabric aside.

Cas moans long and low, hands sliding into Dean's hair as the musician sucks him down. Cas's dick is hot and heavy on his tongue, the salty taste of him making Dean's taste buds over-sensitive with the flavor. He swallows Cas down to the hilt, nosing the skin there where Cas is clean-shaven. Dean never much thought about how he felt about men shaving their pubic hair, but on Cas he loves it, the smell of oils and soap mixing together deliciously with the man's own natural, musky scent to create a light perfume that Dean could get high off of. He drags his lips back up, tongue swirling around the head, pressing flat against the slit where Cas is leaking a steady stream of precome.

Cas gives a long moan of his name, and Dean can't help the smug feeling the wells up in him that he's the one drawing these noises out of Cas.

Dean sets a steady pace, adding in the occasional lick and barest nip of teeth as he learns what Cas likes best, using the symphony of moans and gasps and exhalations of his own name as a road map. He revels in the scratch of Cas's nails against his scalp and the way Cas's fingers tighten in his hair and pull just enough to be on that sexy side of painful.

When Cas basically whimpers, "Dean, so close," it's all the incentive he needs to swallow the model down one more time and moan around the fat cock in his throat.

Cas lets out a hoarse cry, fingers locked tight in Dean's hair, as he pulses his release down Dean's throat. Dean is sure to swallow down every last drop, tongue laving Castiel's dick until it sits fully softened in his mouth. The two make eye contact, Cas running a hand down the side of Dean's face, expression wide and open and completely blissed out, and where are the cameras when Dean needs them? Because these are the kinds of pictures Dean needs of Cas, not the posed ones on the chaise where him and another model stare boredly into the lens.

A harsh  _rap-rap-rapping_  knock at the door shatters the moment, Meg calling though, "Clarence, put your boy toy away so that we can wrap up this shoot and go get dinner! I'm starving!"

When Dean looks away from the door and back up at Cas, it's to find that the model is still staring at him with a look in his eyes somewhere between fond and  _don't-you-look-delicious_ , and Dean is suddenly very reminded that his own dick is straining against the seam of his pants, completely neglected and aching.

Cas seems to have the same though because his eyes flick almost imperceptibly down to Dean's crotch, dark lashes fanning against perfect cheeks for the barest of seconds before he looks back into Dean's eyes while calling back, "I'll be out in just a second, Meg." Cas runs the pad of his thumb against Dean's swollen bottom lip, smirk positively lecherous. Much quieter, he says, "I think I know what I'd like for dessert tonight, too, if that's alright with you."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dub con due to being under the influence. Both parties are consenting adults in a sort-of relationship, however.

Dean has finally hit the point that when Cas's alarm clock starts blaring at ungodly hours in the morning, he no longer has to give a second thought to just where it is he's waking up. They've hit a steady routine, he and Cas. About two days out of the week, they'll hang out, assuming they have time. Some days Meg or Ruby will tag along, others it's just the two of them, but it's enough that they've created a steady friendship outside the bedroom. Admittedly, they don't have a lot in common, but Dean somehow finds that works in their favor. Talking to Castiel is a breath of fresh air, and it always leaves him feeling challenged in a way that is more riveting than humiliating.

And if Dean were to say that their budding friendship out in the real world is going well, he'd have to say that their liaisons inside the bedroom (and the dressing room and the car and that one time in the bathroom of a bistro in Little Italy) are going fantastically. Dean spends most of his nights over at Castiel's apartment, usually at least five nights out of the week since the place also has the added bonus of being way closer to the studio than Dean's little hole in the wall.

This morning finds Cas up well before the sun is even considering peaking over the horizon. Dean is dozing in and out of consciousness as Castiel sets about his morning routine. By the time the model comes out of the shower, towel held loosely around his hips, Dean is awake enough to stare unabashedly and appreciatively at the stretch of skin and muscle across Cas's back.

"Take a picture; it will last longer," Castiel says in amusement, voice morning rough.

Dean rolls comfortably onto his back, arms sprawled across the bed and lazy smirk on his lips. "Hmmmm... I would, but you have that pesky no cameras in the bedroom rule."

"I think today I could be persuaded to break it," Castiel teases, winking at Dean over his shoulder as he lets the towel fall to the floor.

Dean is scrambling for his cellphone in a flash, moving faster than he even knew he could at the asscrack of four in the morning. Castiel laughs at him, but makes no move to stop him when the flash and shutter-sound of the camera on Dean's phone starts going off. He just shakes his head and starts digging though his wardrobe for something to wear, and if he throws in a few extra shakes of his ass, he knows Dean isn't complaining.

Jeans in hand, Castiel turns around, allowing Dean a few glorious moments to capture the full monty. No less amused, Cas tilts his head curiously. "What's gotten into you this morning?" he asks.

Dean lowers the phone and answers, "I'm not going to see you all weekend." He definitely isn't pouting. At least, he's trying not to pout. Oh god, he hopes Cas doesn't mock him for pouting.

Cas sits on the end of the bed, pulling his pants on ( _no underwear_ , Dean notes), and conversationally asks, "Says who?"

Dean steadfastly stamps out the glimmer of hope that tries to burst into ignition in his chest, instead saying, "Well, you've got that fashion show this weekend..."

Cas stands, pulling his jeans the rest of the way up before turning to face Dean, who can't help licking his lips at the sight of the denim hanging off those absolutely perfect hips. "Why don't you come?" Castiel asks, as though it's the most obvious question in the world.

Dean stumbles about for words for a moment, sputtering out, "What? Well - I thought - Just -"

Cas rolls his eyes. "Just come. Abaddon is coming to shoot the thing, and I can only assume she's going to bring along Ruby. Just tag along with them."

Dean tries not to be disappointed that this isn't a personal invite. It makes no sense to be, after all.

Castiel's smiles at him, the expression softer than Dean's used to, which makes something stick in this throat. "Besides, I'd love for you to come with me to the after party."

That annoying hopeful flutter in his chest starts back up again, and before he can over think it, Dean responds, "Sure, I'll go."

* * *

That afternoon finds Dean and Ruby in a sandwich shop for a late lunch. It's the kind of place were the A/C blasts too cold, the patrons are too noisy and packed in, and the sandwiches are bigger than your head, but it comes highly recommended by Alfie, so Ruby dragged them here.

In the middle of their meal, Dean asks, "So how're things going between you and Abaddon?"

Ruby shrugs. "Good, I guess."

Dean quirks an eyebrow. "You guess?"

Ruby rolls her eyes, setting her sandwich down to pull out some of the filling so that it may actually have a chance of fitting in her mouth. "Well, things are good, we're having fun, but it's not like it's serious or anything. Nothing worth asking 'how we're doing' over." She eyes Dean through her lashes, challenging, "What about you and Castiel? How're things going there?"

This time it's Dean's turn to answer, "Good, I guess," as he fidgets under her scrutiny. Her red lips twist up into a triumphant smirk.

Ruby sits back in her seat, chewing idly on a piece of lettuce before making a face and trading it out for one of the potato chips on her plate. Pinning Dean down with a look that swings neither one way nor the other, she asks, "So you want to sit with us at the fashion show, right? That's why you're trying this whole subterfuge thing?"

"'S not subterfuge," Dean grumbles petulantly, sinking low in his chair. Ruby rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"If you say so," she teases. "So is it your deep appreciation for high fashion that has you going? Or your deep appreciation for one blue-eyed, sex-on-legs model?"

"The fashion, of course," Dean replies with a teasing grin.

"Of course," Ruby responds reasonably.

The rest of the lunch is spent amicably making plans for Saturday and discussing the goings-on of work. Eventually, Ruby says she has to leave to get ready for her date with Abaddon, so they part ways. With nothing else to do and no one to do it with, Dean heads home. Several times through the night, he pulls out his phone with the urge to text Cas heavy on his mind. He never does. Texting for the sake of texting doesn't fall into their norm. So instead, he finds himself scrolling through the pictures of Cas he has on his phone. Miraculously, it isn't the naked ones from this morning that he lingers on. Instead, he finds himself staring at the ones of them out and about, especially the candid ones where there's an openness in Cas's face he doesn't normally show in front of the camera (or in general).

Groaning, Dean runs a hand down his face. He's got it bad, and he can't even pretend he doesn't. Shit's pathetic, really.

As Dean has been receiving texts from Ruby all night detailing every last thing about the posh, five-star restaurant Abaddon had taken her to and then the trendy, new club after that, Dean thinks nothing of his phone dinging as he's dozing in and out of consciousness on his cheap, thrift store sofa. He picks it up with every intention of telling Ruby that's he's going to bed and she can regale him with her tales of extravagance then, except that the text isn't from Ruby. Staring at him until the screen dims is Cas's name. Curious and a little excited, he opens it.

_"My bed is far too empty. Come over?"_

Dean's stomach flip-flops happily, and even as he's texting Cas that he'll be there soon, he's contemplating what the quickest way to Cas's place would be.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks,  _I'll spring for a cab._

* * *

Dean spends the whole of the cab ride fidgeting and wishing the cabbie would fucking go faster. Once we gets to Cas's building, he spares the doorman a quick wave as he trots by, the guy just waving back with a smile, as used to Dean's presence as he is. Dean's impatience reaches new heights as he considers taking the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator. Good sense, though, has him deciding against that seeing as he will (hopefully) be needing all his reserves of energy once he gets into Cas's apartment.

Bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, Dean knocks on the door. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to check it.

There's a text from Cas:  _"Come in."_

Sucking in a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his jitters, Dean opens the door. The place is bathed in darkness, all the lights out and not a sign of life. If Dean hadn't just gotten a text from the guy, he would think Cas had already fallen asleep. Slipping his shoes off in the entryway, Dean pads softly through the eerily silent apartment, the feel of the soft carpet against the soles of his feet electrifying his neurons in some crazy, excitement-induced sensory overload.

He ducks quietly into Cas's room only to find the bed pristinely made and the room empty. He has a moment of confusion before movement catches the corner of his eye. The curtains to Castiel's balcony are billowing on a soft breeze. Cautious and curious, Dean heads to it, shivering at the nip in the air up here as he steps outside. It's a warm night, but on the nineteenth floor, the breeze whips around almost unforgivingly.

Castiel is in a robe, leaning against the rail and staring out into the distance, the city lights reflecting hauntingly off his face in a way that makes Dean's breath catch in his throat and his cock twitch in his pants. Wisps of smoke curl skyward from the lit cigarette between his fingers. Cas glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he takes a long drag off the thing, and then tosses it over the edge of the balcony as he exhales. As he turns towards Dean, wearing a lazy, dreamy smile as he drinks in the sight of the musician, Dean feels rooted to the spot.

"You came," Cas says softly, sounding pleased and just the slightest bit amazed.

"Said I would," Dean answers, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. There's something about this moment that is out of time and out of place, as though when he stepped outside he fell through the rabbit hole into a surreal dream.

"I know." Cas's voice is breathy as he takes the two steps necessary to reach out to Dean. He hooks a hand around the back of Dean's neck, bringing the musician down to meet his lips. Dean can taste the nicotine there, and it burns his lungs as though he's smoking the cigarette himself. Their tongues tangle, Cas stealing Dean's breath away, leaving the man to clutch at the model and pull him closer. Dean runs his fingers through Cas's hair, reveling in how soft it is without any of the product normally present on any given day. He tilts Castiel's head back, deepening the kiss. Cas emits a needy sound, just the other side of a whine, as he fists a hand in Dean's shirt.

When the kiss finally breaks, Cas is slow to open his eyes, panting small breaths in and out through lips made plump from Dean's own. Dean watches as Castiel's eyes flutter open, dark lashes parting to reveal unnaturally blown pupils. It isn't a foreign sight to Dean, far from it, nor is it any sort of surprise. He's come across Castiel's immense stash of pills before, after all. However, the way Cas is acting is unlike anything Dean has witnessed before.

Cas smiles, but it's empty. He scratches his nails through the hairs at the back of Dean's neck. Dean leans into the gesture.

Cas ghosts his lips across Dean's, but instead of kissing him, he asks, "Do you find me attractive, Dean?"

Dean narrows his eyes, confused. "Thought I've made that pretty clear, Cas."

Castiel all but damn near pouts, almost whining, "But you never tell me, Dean."

Dean pulls Cas into a brief but no less deep kiss, and as he pulls back, he whispers huskily, "Didn't know it needed saying, but if you want me to, I'll say it every damn day." He peppers kisses across Cas's face, neck, any skin he can reach, reverently whispering, "You're so damn beautiful, Cas. So sexy. Never seen anyone like you."

Cas whimpers, clinging tighter to Dean, eyes scrunching shut and breathing hotly in Dean's ear as Dean presses hot kisses into the soft skin where Cas's neck meets shoulder.

"Fuck me, Dean," Cas begs. "Fill me up. Want to feel special."

Dean kisses his way back up to Cas's mouth. "You are special, baby, so special."

Cas wraps both arms around Dean's neck, pressing flush against him. Dean can feel Cas's erection pressing into his, and he groans against Cas's mouth. "Bed," he pants.

Castiel shakes his head. "Out here, where anyone can see. Want them to know I'm yours."

They're highly unlikely to be spotted by anyone, high up as they are, but the sentiment still sends a pleasing shiver down Dean's spine. Still, this isn't like the Cas he knows. "What's gotten into you, baby?"

"Told you, want to feel special," Cas replies and then pulls Dean in for another kiss. It's hot and wet, Castiel's tongue mapping out Dean's. Then Dean feels Cas unzipping his fly.

He pulls away, much as it pains him. "That's all fine and well, Cas, but we're not exactly prepared to do it out here. We don't have anything we need."

"Doesn't matter," Cas whispers, wrapping his fingers around Dean's cock and stroking it.

Dean's mind goes blank at the touch, and it takes more willpower than he ever thought he had for him to still Cas's hand. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Can't hurt me. I want it," Cas mumbles against Dean's mouth, and it almost sounds sad.

"Pretty sure that's not how it works," Dean responds.

"Please," Cas begs, needy and desperate, almost collapsing against Dean.

"I won't hurt you," Dean reinforces. When Cas whines in frustration, Dean adds, "Can still make you feel good."

Kissing Cas again, he backs the model up against the railing of the balcony and deftly pulls free the knot at the front of Cas's robe. When it falls open, Dean can't resist the opportunity to pull back and admire Cas in the city lights. His chest is flushed, nipples hardened. Dean leans down to lick one, pulling a low keening sound from Castiel, who threads his fingers through Dean's hair. When he bites down, Castiel gasps, jerking against him. Dean pays the same attention to the other one before raising back up to press a soft kiss against Cas's lips. Cas kisses back slow and soft.

Dean reaches between them to grasp Cas's dick, giving it long, slow strokes to match the kiss. Castiel gasps into his mouth when Dean swipes a finger across the slit, smearing precome across the head.

Cas breaks away, head falling back to expose the long column of his neck, groaning out Dean's name.

"I've got you," Dean assures him, wrapping his other arm tightly around Castiel as he continues to stroke his cock.

"Need more, Dean" Cas begs, hooking a leg around Dean's hip and pulling him in.

Dean places a chaste kiss on Castiel's Adam's apple. "I've got you," he repeats.

Dean adjusts his grip so that he's holding both himself and Cas together, which has Castiel moaning wantonly and trying to rut up against him. The velvet feel of Cas against him takes Dean's breath away. He lets his head fall forward onto Cas's shoulder, and he breathes in the scent of him as he strokes them both. He won't last long, he can feel it, something about the way Cas is acting is driving him crazy with need. By the sounds Cas is making in his ear, though, he won't last long either.

They rut against each other, the sounds of the city below them falling away until all Dean can hear is the sounds Cas is making in his ear.

Cas's fingers tighten in his hair, the model gasping out, "Dean, so close. I'm so close."

"That's good, so good. So good for me, Cas," Dean groans.

With a shudder and a broken off cry, Cas comes, his release hot and sticky against Dean's own member. His fingers slide easier across their skin, milking Cas through his orgasm. It only takes a few more strokes before Dean reaches his orgasm as well, groaning out Cas's name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me over on [tumblr](http://kanoitrace.tumblr.com)! I don't bite!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The venue for the fashion show is busy and loud and slightly claustrophobic as everyone waits anxiously to see what designer Benny Lafitte's line entitled Divine Comedy will look like. Well, most everyone. Dean is just there to see Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The largest, most massive thank you in the world to my beta for fixing this up! Thanks to the power struggle between my tablet and me, this chapter was like 25% typo, and she cleaned up so damn much of it!

It isn't the alarm clock blaring nor Cas getting up that wakes Dean. Instead, it is the steady thrum of the shower, water hitting tile in a droning tempo that neither encourages him to wake up nor fall back asleep. He simply continues lying in bed, cocooned in the soft sheets and down comforter, replaying the events of the night before. After their little performance on the balcony, Cas had been spent, which meant he finally let Dean lead him to bed. Once he'd climbed in himself, Cas had clung to him, needy in a way that concerned Dean in its variance from Cas's normal character. Thankfully, Cas fell asleep quickly, and as much as some archaic, masculine node in his brain wished he could say he'd stayed up and watched over Cas, he'd honestly been so tired himself that he conked out not moments after, the adrenaline from the initial text and preceding events finally having faded enough to remind him how ready he'd been for sleep before it all.

Briefly, Dean considers rolling out of bed to cook breakfast for them, but Cas's eating habits are so sporadic that it hardly seems worth it, not with as tired as he is. It isn't long after this errant thought that the shower turns off anyway. It always amazes Dean how well-kept this building is; the pipes never creak. Instead, it's just the soft  _drip-drip-drip_ of the water tapering off that signals its end.

Dean turns his head to the door, waiting expectantly for Castiel to appear. He listens as Cas moves about the bathroom, the soft noises of his feet against the floor and him humming some song that Dean can't quite place despite finding the tune familiar almost lulling Dean back to sleep. When the door does eventually open, light spills out, causing Dean to squint against the painful intrusion and groan with displeasure.

"Sorry," Cas says softly, amusement evident despite his quietness. He closes the door, though not entirely, leaving it cracked just enough that a small sliver of light trails diagonally across the bedroom floor. It's faint enough not to bother Dean, but the previous brightness leaves him unable to coax his brain into believing it's okay to go back to sleep.

He sits up, the movement catching Castiel's notice. Dean watches closely as Cas walks towards him, looking for any signs that Cas may still be somehow not himself. Nothing pops out at him by the time Castiel sits on the mattress beside him. It's almost infuriating how normal everything seems, as though Dean has dreamed up the night before.

Cas runs his fingers through Dean's hair, and Dean leans into the touch, almost purring at how wonderful those blunt nails feel scratching against his scalp.

"I was beginning to think you were under some kind of sleeping curse," Castiel jests.

Dean opens his eyes just enough to see the playful smile teasing at the edges of Castiel's lips. He returns it with one of his own, answering, "Yep, pricked my finger on a spinning wheel."

Castiel laughs softly. "How archaic."

Dean huffs happily at the response. "Poison apple then?"

Castiel  _hmmm_ 's softly, scratching gently at the hair behind Dean's ear, resting their foreheads together. "Did someone break in and kiss you awake while I was in the shower?"

His smile tugging his lips wider, Dean responds, "They weren't very good at it, 'm not fully awake. Need some more help." He puckers his lips as best he can while he's trying not to laugh out how ridiculous they're being.

"That sounds like something I can help with," Cas purrs before leaning in to capture Dean's mouth, his other hand going to Dean's shoulder to support and steady himself.

The smile melts from Dean's face in reverence to kissing Cas good and thoroughly. He threads his fingers through damp locks, knotting them there, as he licks at the seam of Cas's lips and then into his mouth.

Castiel moans, low and wanton, shifting them closer, naked chests pressed together, not a centimeter of space between their skin. His grip on Dean's shoulder tightens, enough to surely bruise, but it only fans the flames higher.

Dean's hands slip from Castiel's hair, sliding down his back to grip onto sinful hips and haul Cas on top of himself. Dean grinds up against him, keeping Cas in place until he catches onto the rhythm Dean is setting and finally starts rutting back against him through the sheet and blanket.

The fabric between them is driving Dean insane. It's soft and barely there, but provides a very present barrier as it tangles around Dean, denying him the full flesh-on-flesh experience he finds he suddenly needs. In one quick motion and with a primal growl, Dean rips the blankets away from him, tossing them carelessly to the side, and flips them over so that Castiel is now laying below him, hair fanned out around his head, looking like an angel of sin and temptation.

Losing himself to sensation, Dean, unthinking, nips harshly at Castiel's bottom lip. In retribution and warning, Cas's hand untangles from Dean's hair and delivers a swift smack to Dean's haunches. Dean, in return, gasps and thrusts harder against Cas, falling fast into the velvety pull of skin against skin.

He can feel his orgasm approaching, pooling hot and heady in the pit of his stomach. Likewise, he is aware of Castiel's own oncoming climax based on the hitching, broken gasps and moans he's emitting, interspersed between things like Dean's name and declarations to God.

Dean smirks against Cas's lips.

"Wh-What's so funny?" Castiel asks, and Dean can see he's glaring when he pulls away enough to look Cas in the face.

"This a religious experience for you?" Dean teases.

Castiel's glare deepens. "Hardly." With that, Cas wraps his legs around Dean's waist and manages to flip them so that he is once again on top, grinding against Dean with a wild abandon he only exhibits in private moments such as this.

Dean laughs and pulls Cas's head down to meet him in another kiss. The angle is awkward, leaving Cas with the ability to do little more than slowly grind. The urgency melts from them as they slowly makeout. Cas slides a hand between them, grasping them both as they rock against each other, moaning softly into each other's mouths.

No longer chasing their orgasms with single-minded determination, it's almost a surprise when Castiel comes with a shuddering gasp, spilling hot and sticky against Dean's stomach. Dean kisses him through it, hands framing either side of Castiel's face.

When Castiel's breathing evens out and his eyes flutter open, he's still shaking and half hard against Dean's own aching cock. He does, however, have enough sense about it to grimace at the mess between them.

"I just took a shower," he grumbles.

Petting back Cas's hair from his damp forehead, Dean assures him with a sated smile, "We can take another one."

Cas huffs out a quiet laugh, uncurling his hand from around their dicks and running it up Dean's chest, smearing his own come against Dean's skin.

"Now you're just being foul," Dean scolds, but he says it warmly, placing a gentle kiss to Castiel's temple as Cas sags against his.

Cas pinches one of Dean's nipples in retaliation, earning him a sharp intake of breath and upward thrust of his hips from Dean.

Dean rakes his fingers through the hair at the back of Castiel's head and pulls him in for a kiss, deep and dirty and sensual. He rolls them over yet again, landing on top of Cas and then slithering down Cas's body, peppering his chest and stomach with kisses, pausing along the way to mouth at Cas's nipples. Cas hums contentedly, threading his fingers through Dean's short hair, massaging his scalp while urging him farther down.

Dean passes over where Cas's cock sits half-hard and heavy against the V of his pelvis, finally settling to lay between Castiel's legs, wrapping his arms around them and guiding them so that they're spread wide and over Dean's shoulders. He bows his head and presses a feather-light kiss to Castiel's hole, causing Cas to squirm above him.

Dean tentatively licks the pucker of flesh, drawing out a whine of "Deeeaaannn" from above. Dean chuckles, his breath puffing out against Castiel's opening. When Cas makes to buck his hips, Dean holds them in place.

He laves his tongue around the opening until Cas is pulling at Dean's hair, begging for more. When Dean glances up, he finds that Cas is once again fully hard.  _Finally_ , Dean dips his tongue in, penetrating Cas the barest bit before the muscle is retreating once more to deliver little kitten licks.

Castiel growls in frustration. "I do have to be at work sometime in this century you know."

Dean pulls back enough to grin saucily at Cas. "So bossy." Before Cas can even think up his own quippy response, Dean dives back in, tongue darting in to massage at Cas's inner walls. Cas throws his head back with a throaty moan, fingers flexing in Dean's hair. When Dean pulls his tongue out, he sucks at the hole and follows it up with a scrape of teeth against the ring of muscle because he knows it drives Cas absolutely insane. When he sticks his tongue back in, he slides a finger in beside it, working Cas open nice and slow.

With a second finger in Cas, scissoring him open, Dean barely registers when one of Cas's hands disappears from his hair. However, when the bottle of lube hits him in the head, he immediately pulls back, indignantly barking, "What the hell, Cas!?"

"Get on with it! I'm not going to break," Cas demands.

"You won't break, but you will be walking funny down the runway tonight, which you'd kill me for."

The uninhibited lust finally clears some from Castiel's face as the reality washes over him. Groaning unhappily, he sinks back against the pillows, that hand he'd used to throw the lube going to run through his hair. "Damn it, Dean! We can't do this today."

It's like a dousing of ice water. "What?"

Cas lifts his head enough to meet Dean's eyes, "At least not if I bottom."

Dean considers the alternative for a moment, but do they even have time for that? And considering Cas already came once, is it even worth it?

Fingers still inside Cas, Dean rests his head on Cas's pelvis. "God damn it, Cas."

They lay in lamentable silence for a moment before Castiel says, "I have an idea." He pushes at Dean shoulders until Dean finally slides away from Cas. At Castiel's instruction, he lays on his back beside Cas.

When Cas crawls over him, face in Dean's crotch and ass in Dean's face, Dean asks, "Seriously? Isn't this a little high school?"

Cas looks back at him, teasing, "Are you saying we're old?"

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but his words are choked off by a moan as Cas swallows him down. Cas pulls back until only the head is in his mouth, and then he swallows him down again, taking Dean further back into his throat this time, holding him there as he noses at the wiry hair at the base. After a moment, Cas pulls back again before starting to set an actual rhythm, bobbing his head up and down, doing things with his tongue that should be absolutely illegal.

Dean pulls Cas's backside further down, tongue sliding easily back into Castiel's loose hole. When Cas moans, Dean feels it all the way down to his toes. He reaches a hand up to stroke Cas's dick in the same moment that Cas begins fondling one of his balls.

It's messy business, his jaw sore from eating Cas out while spit runs down his chin. Cas isn't much better off, can't be, but it's intoxicating. The scent of soap and Cas fills Dean's nose while Cas sucks him off, making the most obscene slurping noises and moaning around Dean's dick has Dean racing towards his orgasm once more. He groans loudly when Casiel tongues at the slit of his dick, and the vibration is enough to set Cas off on his second orgasm, shooting thick ropes of come across Dean's chest, ass clenching around Dean's tongue. When Cas's finger slides down the seam of Dean's balls to tease at his hole, that's it for Dean as well. Head thrown back, his hips buck up and he comes in Cas's mouth. Cas swallows it all down, suckling Dean until he's completely soft. Dean sags against the bed as Castiel rolls off him and falls heavily down onto the mattress.

Dean absent-mindedly runs his hand across the smooth skin of Castiel's ass cheek, fingers occasionally dipping down to graze Cas's still fluttering hole, basking in the broken, little noises it earns him.

When his strength finally returns, Castiel rolls onto his back and bats away Dean's hand. "I really need to get into the shower now."

Reaching a hand up to touch the sticky, drying mess on his chest and stomach, Dean grimaces. "I think I'll join you."

Cas raises his head enough to raise an eyebrow at Dean. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Baby, I couldn't get it up again if I tried."

He rolls his eyes when Cas laughs and mutters something about "really not a high schooler."

They make their way into the shower, and despite their best efforts to be utilitarian about the whole ordeal, they still end up making out slow and hot under the spray of water. Once they finally get clean and dressed, they decide to go out for breakfast, the risk of winding up naked again apparently too great to chance it.

Cas only eats an orange with a cup of coffee for breakfast, but Dean knows better than to comment on it, having heard one too many lectures about the very real threat of bloating on a work day. Still, it's nice, and it gives Dean a warm, happy feeling to carry him through the rest of the day, last night a far off memory.

* * *

The venue for the fashion show is busy and loud and slightly claustrophobic as everyone waits anxiously to see what designer Benny Lafitte's line entitled  _Divine Comedy_  will look like. Well, most everyone. Dean is just there to see Cas.

Their seats are great, some of the best in the house thanks to Abaddon's press pass. They're up close and center so that she can get the best shots.

A voice comes over the speakers, thanking everyone for coming and announcing the name of the line and the designer before the show actually starts. Once a hush falls over the crowd, Abaddon raises her camera, at the ready, and then the heavy beat of the bass kicks in as the music starts.

The clothes are all different shades of white, gray, and red, some emulating the appearance of angels and demons. All the models command the stage, wearing that patented look of apathy and hautiness as they stare down the runway. Some are gorgeous, while others just look tired and sick no matter how much makeup is piled on, but no matter their appearance, they all demand the gaze of everyone there as though it is their birth right. It kind of leaves Dean floored how well they all command a room. He finds himself thinking he should probably start asking Cas for pointers for when he starts playing shows of his own.

They're ten or twelve outfits in, Dean having lost count, when Meg appears, sauntering down the catwalk in some barely there red number, all lace and leather tied together with ribbon. She's sex on forever long legs and high heels, offering the crowd a come hither look that leaves even Dean feeling a little hot under the collar. He thinks there's probably never been anyone more well suited to play the part of seductress demon. When he glances over at Ruby and notices the off expression on her face, the same one he's seen multiple times when Meg is involved, he thinks it's probably best that Abaddon's focus is behind a lens. She strikes her poses and then saunters back up the runway, pausing briefly at the half-way point to strike one more pose, throwing a sultry look over her shoulder.

Cas steps out from the wings before Meg is walking again, clad in possibly the tightest white pants Dean has ever seen,slung low and tied at the front with crisscrossing red ribbon over the crotch, leaving very little to the imagination.. He's not wearing anything else except a smattering of white glitter all across his face and chest, and the sight leaves Dean dry-mouthed and wondering how quickly he could get Cas out of them.

When Meg and Cas step by each other, she slides a hand down his bare chest, temptation etched into every aspect of her, eyes wide and challenging as she looks up at him. Cas grabs her hand and violently pushes it away, tossing her the darkest, sexiest look Dean has ever seen, all dominance and disgust. It's over in a second, but it charges the air as they walk their separate ways, Cas making his way to the end of the walkway and striking his marks. As he walks away, Ruby elbows Dean in the ribs, teasing, "That look on your face could get you arrested for public indecency." He just rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head and smiling.

Neither Castiel nor Meg reappear for the rest of the show, and at the end, Dean finds out why.

The music stops and the lights go down, and for a moment, Dean wonders if the power went out. When the music starts again, it's a sultry, haunting beat. The lights come back up, showing Cas and Meg beginning their walk down the runway. Meg is wearing a sheer, flowing red dress with a plunging neckline and slit all the way up the front. Black licks up the bottom of the skirt like fires reaching up from hell. Her makeup is dark and smokey with deeply red lips, while her dark curls are pinned up, showing off the long column of her neck; she's the Queen of Hell come to life. In her hand is a small chain that leads to a manacle around Castiel's neck. Cas is wearing nothing else except a giant pair of black wings, a white corset, and a pair of white and black panties that match the dress in design. When they reach the end of the runway, they pose together, every move screaming sex, possession, dominance. Meg pushes Cas to ground, hand in his hair to pull back his head so that he's gazing up at her like she is his world and places her foot on his shoulder, presumably to show off the black and red stilettos. Then the lights go down.

When they come back up again, Meg and Cas are both standing, gesturing to where a large, muscular man is now walking down the catwalk.

"Benny," Ruby whispers helpfully in his ear.

When Benny reaches Meg and Castiel, there is applause and a brief speech from the designer, thanking everyone for coming. Then everyone is dispersing, the house lights back on and the music a dull, background noise.

Dean and Ruby loiter around a little longer as Abaddon snaps a few more photos of the stage and venue post-show, and then once she's done, the trio makes their way outside. They stand on the sidewalk in front of the building for about a half hour more before Meg and Castiel appear. Meg's hair and makeup remain as they were in the last dress she wore, but she has changed into a short, body-hugging dress, while Cas is in black slacks and a button down with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. Dean can make out traces of remaining glitter across his face and down his neck.

"So did you enjoy the show?" Castiel asks, aiming a wink in Dean's direction, whose face burns in embarrassment.

"You both looked great," Ruby answers.

"Are you saying we don't always look great?" Meg counters playfully.

Ruby just rolls her eyes. "Meg, I've seen you with your head in a toilet at three in the morning."

"And I looked great doing it, right?" Meg challenges with a saucy smile.

Ruby just sighs, smiling and shaking her head in exasperation. "Anyway, you guys give my regards to Benny and tell him I think the new line looks great."

"You aren't coming?" Dean asks suddenly.

Ruby shrugs. "Early session tomorrow." She fixes Dean with a piercing look and sighs dramatically. Shooting Abaddon an overly mournful look, she laments, "They grow up so fast! One day they're newbies who can barely read a subway map and the next they're going off to ritzy parties hosted by fashion designers." She sniffles for good measure.

Abaddon laughs before placing a kiss to Ruby's lips. "Get some sleep."

Meg snorts derisively. "Sweet as this all is, we should get going." Catty though she sounds, it's enough to spur them all into action, hailing two separate cabs - one for Ruby, and one for the rest of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the last chapter, this chapter, and the next one were all supposed to initially have been part of the same chapter. However, it just kept getting longer and longer, and so here we are. Hopefully the next chapter will actually do what I set out to do last chapter. As I haven't written it yet, we'll have to wait and see.
> 
> You can also find me over on [tumblr](http://kanoitrace.tumblr.com)! I have it on anon authority that I am a cinnamon roll ;D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg takes Dean's hand, laying down on the bed and guiding him on top of her. Once they're settled, Cas slots in behind Dean, hands going to his hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning this chapter! There is a threesome between Meg, Dean, and Cas. If that is not your jam, you can probably skip a large part of this chapter. It'll be obvious when that kicks in. Also, the usual warnings of slightly dubious consent due to intoxication. We should be used to that in this fic by now, though.

The party is already in full swing by the time they get to Benny's penthouse apartment – bass thumping, liquor flowing, and bodies writhing against each other in some sort of hypnotic cross between dancing and sex. The lighting is low, making it difficult to make out just what everyone is doing. In the back, Dean can make out a body lying down as people consume things off it. He isn't sure if they're doing body shots or something more, but it's fascinating.

It's almost too much to take in, and Dean doesn't even realize he's staring, slack-jawed, until Meg purrs, “Like what you see?”

He glances at her, and she's watching him with that predatory gleam in her eye. It makes a flush crawl up his neck.

“Quit flirting,” Cas says, eyes scouting out the crowd.

Meg grabs Dean's arm and pushes her breasts up again it, pouting as she teases, “Why? You haven't put an official claim on him yet.”

Dean's torn between feeling dejected and turned on.

“Oh the perils of having the attention of two beautiful models,” Abaddon drawls, and when Dean looks at her, she's smirking at him. “You must hate it,” she teases.

Thankfully, Dean is saved from having to respond by the host himself showing up.

“Well, Meg, it was my understanding that this fine fella here was Castiel's new fling,” Benny drawls with a lazy grin.

Pushing herself further against Dean's arm, she purrs, “Oh, you know we share everything.” Then she gives a sultry wink for good measure. When Dean glances at Cas to see his reaction, Castiel just rolls his eyes.

Benny raises an eyebrow dubiously. “You sure that ain't you and Ruby?” He glances meaningfully at Abaddon, who stares at him blankly.

Meg's face contorts into something dark and threatening. “Watch it,” she says.

Instead of being intimidated (which Dean definitely is, especially while still being quite literally in her claws), Benny just slaps his leg and laughs. “You don't want people to know, you shouldn't be so brazen about it.”

Castiel huffs, covering up a laugh, but the way his lips quirk up is obvious. Meg leans around Dean, finally letting go of him, to glare in annoyance at her friend.

Castiel meets her eyes and just shrugs. “What? He has a point.”

“You two are gonna hurt that girl somethin’ fierce,” Benny says as though all he's talking about is the weather.

“We never said we were exclusive,” Abaddon says, and Dean feels something like lead drop into his stomach. Is that how Castiel feels, as well? He tries to discreetly look out of the corner of his eye at Cas, gauge his reaction, and while Cas has a slightly sour expression, it doesn't really tell Dean anything. It could just be concern for Ruby. They are friends, after all, right? But then again, Dean thought Meg was Ruby's friend, as well.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing,” Castiel advises, and it seems to hit a mark with both women, both their faces pinching with displeasure, which, again, leaves Dean feeling lost.

Benny just laughs once more, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Well, I was just coming over to say hi. Didn't mean to start nothing.”

Meg mumbles something that sounds like, “Yeah, right,” but the music is too loud for Dean to be sure. Either way, it serves as further amusement to Benny; granted, it appears to Dean that everything amuses Benny.

“Y'all just be sure to have a good time. You deserve it.” And with one last wink, this one directed at Dean, Benny leaves.

Dean blinks, feeling lost. “Did... Did he just hit on me?”

Abaddon snorts, and Meg cackles. Cas just looks pissy.

* * *

 

Dean and Cas lose sight of Abaddon and Meg not long after Benny walks off. They wind up making their own way towards the balcony, Cas claiming he needs air and is feeling claustrophobic in the middle of all these people. Which even Dean has to admit, Cas is looking a little pale. He finds himself wondering if Cas has taken anything today; he's pretty sure he didn't see him take any pills this morning, and Cas takes his job too seriously to get high at a runway show, right? Wait a minute, is Dean seriously concerned because he didn't see Cas take drugs? Officially, his life is pretty fucked up.

Though Dean will concede that the place is a little over-crowded as they are bumped and pushed about on their way outside. And Dean does find out that yep, those people in the back are definitely doing lines of coke off some chick's stomach.

The balcony is pretty crowded as well, but at least there's fresh air. Castiel leans against the railing and stares out at the cityscape. Meanwhile, Dean is suddenly hit with the memory of last night, and his throat goes dry.

“Quite the view he has here,” Cas says softly.

Dean barely manages to croak out, “Yeah.” Honestly, he hasn't even really looked at the view. He's sure it's fabulous, but yet again he finds himself transfixed on Castiel and the way the lights play off his skin. There must be a pool or hot tub out here (of course) because the light and shadow play off Cas likes waves.

He turns to look at Dean, studying him, brows drawn together and mouth cinched down into a concerned little frown. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Dean blurts out, “Are all of you like that?” before he even knows what he's saying.

Castiel quirks one eyebrow up. “I'm going to need you to be a little more specific.”

Dean feels his cheeks warming, so he ducks his head, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Just... Abaddon... I know she and Ruby aren't serious or anything, hell, even Ruby said it, but...” He trails off.

When Castiel doesn't answer right away, Dean peeks up through his lashes. Cas is back to leaning against the railing again, staring back out, though his expression is glazed over.

The seconds tick by, and just as Dean thinks he isn't going to answer, Cas asks, “You're wondering if I'm like that?”

Dean wants to say no, deny, deny, deny, until he can deny no more. But it doesn't seem worth it. Plus, he can't quite make the words come out.

Apparently, though, he doesn't actually need to say anything, as Cas just sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “That situation? It's complicated.”

“How so?” Dean asks, and damn it! He really needs his mouth to stop moving before his brain.

Cas looks almost sad as he says, “Meg doesn't know how to be happy, so she ruins people's lives in retaliation. And Abaddon? Well, she's got a reputation. Ruby knew that going in. And honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if half of why Ruby went out with her to begin with was to get back at Meg.”

“Did something happen between them? Ruby and Meg, I mean?” Dean asks.

Cas sighs in exasperation. “If only. At least then they wouldn't be playing gay chicken. It's exhausting to watch, really.”

Dean laughs. “Gay chicken?”

Castiel quirks his own smile. “Something like that.”

Dean moves to stand beside Cas, their shoulders brushing against each other with each breath, and okay, Dean does have to admit it. Benny's place has quite the view.

They stand like that, not a word spoken between them, until, somehow, the rest of the world falls away, and it's just Castiel, Dean, a great view, and the body heat radiating between them.

Dean forgets about everything except this moment, which is why it takes him so by surprise when someone jovially says, "Hey, Castiel! I was wondering where you were."

Dean totally doesn't jump out of his skin. But even if he did it wouldn't much matter because when he turns around, Castiel and the new guy, a young looking Asian guy (seriously, is this kid even legal?), are facing each other.

"I didn't think you'd be here tonight," Castiel says.

New guy just grins happily and says, "Come on, you seriously think I'd miss this?"

"I guess not," Castiel concedes. "I suppose that would be bad for business."

"Who uh... Who's your friend?" Dean asks, trying for nonchalance instead of desperation to be included.

Castiel blinks, the consternated expression on his face falling away as he seems to remember Dean is there. "Right, sorry. Dean, this is Kevin. Kevin, Dean."

"Oh riiiiight," Kevin says suggestively. "The boyfriend."

"I never called him that," Castiel corrects, but his cheeks are tinged pink, so Dean can't be too upset by the comment. Besides, they never have had that talk. It's not like Dean calls Cas that when he talks to other people. Granted, the only other people he really talks to are Ruby, Abaddon, and Meg, so it's not like they don't know the situation. Dean's just excited to know Cas talks about him at all to people who aren’t mutual friends.

"You'll have to excuse Kevin. He doesn't get out much," Castiel says, still stiff from embarrassment.

"I get out plenty. You're the one with rusty people skills," Kevin argues, and Dean winds up laughing. Kevin aims his grin at him and extends a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Dean accepts the handshake and says, "You, too."

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Kevin asks, "So, what'll you guys be having tonight?"

"What?" Dean asks.

Face pinched down in a frown, Castiel clarifies, "Kevin is my dealer."

"Oh." There really isn't much more Dean can say to that. Though now that Cas says it, Dean does finally notice the out of place messenger bag slung over Kevin’s shoulder.

"I got some quality stuff tonight," Kevin says.

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Isn't your stuff always quality?"

"Well, yeah."

"Good. I was afraid you were about to admit to ripping me off," Castiel says with a smug little smirk.

Kevin frowns. "No way."

Dean watches the exchange feeling equal parts discomfited and intrigued. The good Kansas boy in Dean wants to be upset with Kevin for keeping Cas in drugs, despite the fact he rationally knows that if Cas wasn't buying from Kevin, he'd be getting it somewhere else. Plus, he highly doubts Kevin is the one that got Cas hooked. Way Dean figures it, Cas was probably already well into drugs while Kevin was still getting wedgies in middle school. Of course he can't be sure, but it seems more likely.

"I'll just have the usual," Castiel says, and Kevin rolls his eyes.

"You and Meg, no variety," Kevin tsks.

"Meg doesn't need variety," Castiel says, sounding like he's her parent talking to her teacher or some shit. He hands over some money, and Kevin exchanges it for a nondescript prescription bottle.

Then, Kevin turns to Dean. "What'll you have?" he asks.

Dean is like a deer caught in headlights, stumbling over his words as he tries to say, "Oh, no, nothing for me, thanks." Thanks? Did he seriously just say "no thank you" to a drug dealer like he was being offered seconds at his grandmother’s? Not that Dean ever says no to seconds at Grandma's, but still!

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Dean doesn't do drugs," Cas says conversationally, and while Dean knows he doesn't mean anything negative by it, has never even once insinuated he would prefer for Dean to be high with him, Dean still somehow feels like it's a jab.

The feeling only gets exacerbated by Kevin laughing. "Wow, seriously? And you hang with him?"

He jabs a thumb in Cas's direction.

"I've done drugs," Dean finds himself arguing.

Castiel looks at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. In high school? Definitely," Dean responds confidently. And okay, maybe he only smoked weed under the bleachers once, but it totally counts right?

While Cas still looks unconvinced, Kevin perks right up. "So then, Dean, what'll it be?"

And shit. What are even the options here? Mortification slowly creeping up his spine, Dean winds up asking, "Uh... what's good?"

Kevin laughs again, saying, "I'll tell you what, this one is on me." He roots through his bag and holds out a fist for Dean. When Dean holds his hand out, an innocuous looking white tablet is deposited into it. "Have fun tonight," Kevin says with a final wave and then he's walking off, disappearing into the sea of bodies as swiftly as he appeared.

Dean stares at the pill in his hand, mentally going over every anti-drug class he was ever made to sit through as a kid to see if he can place it. He's in so over his head that it's embarrassing, and it's all on display for Cas to see.

"He gave you ecstacy," Cas explains plainly, no hint of judgement or reproach in his voice. "You don't have to take it."

Yeah, Dean knows that, but some part of him wants to. Actually, a very large part wants to. This is part of Cas's life, well, not this specifically, but still; and it's part of the celebrity scene, too, right? And that shoots Dean higher than he's ever been. Shit, he hasn't even dropped an album yet and already he's getting into VIP parties, friends with a superstar, and fucking a model. His life is made.

"I want to," he says. He looks at Cas, suddenly feeling more sure of himself and less like some loser kid who just happened to stumble along. If he wants to make it big, he has to act the part, right? "I just swallow it, right?"

Cas nods. "That's the quickest way, yes." Good, Dean at least got something right.

He throws the pill back, swallowing it dry, and dimly wonders just what he's gotten himself into.

* * *

 

As it turns out, he's gotten himself into something amazing. It's only about a half an hour before Dean starts to feel the pill’s effects, and it takes even less than that for Dean to figure out why people do this. Every sensation feels heightened. Colors are bright and vibrant, sounds send pleasant vibrations all the way down to his toes, and touch - oh touch! Is this how Cas feels all the time?

Castiel laughs. "I don't take ecstasy, so not quite," he says with a smile.

"You're missing out," Dean promises, swooping in to kiss Castiel good and thorough before he can even think about giving the witty response Dean knows is primed to roll off his tongue. There are better uses for that appendage, after all, much better.

Dean groans into the kiss as he runs his fingers through Cas's hair, marveling at the silky texture. He both feels and hears Cas laughing against his lips, and in retaliation, Dean slides a knee between Cas's legs, grinding his thigh up. Cas's laughter seamlessly turns into a pleasured groan, and he starts rutting again Dean's leg. Dean pulls on Cas's hair, tipping Castiel's head back and reluctantly pulling away from his mouth so that he can enthusiastically begin nipping and sucking and kissing at the tan skin of his bared neck. He expects to be pushed away, but when Cas actually lets him go at it, let's Dean mark him up, an electric thrill runs up his spin.

"Wanna fuck you, Cas," Dean moans into the underside of Castiel's jaw. "Been too long. Wanna feel you." It doesn't matter that they fooled around this morning or last night; it's been three whole days since they last actually fucked, and that is way too long in Dean's book.

"Mm, yes, Dean," Cas groans. "Benny, ah-!" He breaks off in a gasp when Dean slides a hand down the back of his pants. "Benny has a spare room."

"Show me, Cas" Dean growls, delivering a particularly unkind nip to the soft skin above Cas's collar bone. Cas whines and arches his back, body flush against Dean's, not an bit of space between them, but still Dean wants more. Needs more. Forget pills, Cas is his drug of choice, and he can't get enough. He inhales deeply, taking in the spicy clean scent of Cas. He licks a solid stripe up Cas's neck to his ear, then starts nibbling on the sensitive flesh behind it, which has Cas heaving deep, labored breaths as he squirms desperately against Dean's leg, hands grasping anywhere, everywhere, clinging to wherever he can hold on.

"B-Bedroom, Dean," Cas reminds him, barely able to get the words out around the gasps and whines being ripped from him. It's these sounds Dean needs a recording of. He would listen to them every night before bed, play them on repeat. He wonders how much the label would frown on him bringing Cas to the recording studio with him to make just such a track. Fuck, he doesn't care, not when there's a sexy model writhing in his arms.

It's with reluctance that he lets Cas go so that they can make it to the bedroom and do this properly. It's almost painful to not be touching Cas by this point, but, thankfully, Cas slides his hand down Dean's arms and twines their fingers together. Even that is enough to send chill bumps skittering across his flesh.

Cas leads him across the apartment, and while it feels like it takes unbearably long to get to their destination, Dean can ignore the other party goers that bump into him so long as he focuses on the grip he has on Castiel's hand.

They stumble into the room, ready to pick up right where they left off, only to realize it's already occupied, and, shit, the view suddenly makes him very aware of just how hard he is, cock straining painfully against his jeans.

Meg's back is arched off the bed, bowed beautifully, while her hands are threaded through red hair, guiding Abaddon's head between her legs. Abaddon doesn't acknowledge their entrance, but Meg does, facing them with a come-hither smirk before her attention is derailed as she cries out, her orgasm ripping through her as her back bends so far she's almost completely off the bed. Abaddon doesn't move, continuing to lick and suck at Meg's cunt while she rides it out. Dean watches in such rapt attention that when Cas squeezes his dick through his clothes, he almost chokes on the surprise.

Abaddon finally pulls away, red lipstick smeared away and replaced with the sheen of Meg's cum. Dean swallows thickly, head falling back as Cas continues to massage his dick and alternate between biting and kissing his neck. But still, Dean can't tear his eyes away from the two women, can't stop them from roving over Meg's bare skin - from her trembling legs, across her shaved snatch, up her concave stomach, to her pert breasts where her nipples are full and flushed, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Even the way her dark curls splay across the sheets is tantalizing.

"Do you want to touch her?" Cas whispers into his ear. The thought of getting to run his hands up that silky skin, of getting feel the wetness of her folds, sends a full-body shiver through Dean. "Want us both to fuck you?" Cas asks, and Dean fucking whines for it, bucking up into Cas's hand.

Cas unbuttons and unzips Dean's pants, sliding his hand into Dean's pants to wrap long fingers around his cock. He jacks Dean slowly while Dean watches Abaddon slither up Meg's body to kiss her, tongues tangling as Meg moans at the taste of herself. Then Abaddon pulls herself up and walks out of the room, smirking at the two of them as she passes.

It's just the three of them now, and Meg looks up at them with bedroom eyes and a coy smile on her lips. "Just going to stand there?" she taunts.

Cas releases Dean, applies the slightest of pressure against the small of his back to urge him on, and Dean approaches Meg. Settling one knee into the mattress, he leans down to kiss her.

It's electrifying, wonderful and so different than he's grown used to with Cas. Her lips are soft and plush, and the way her nails scratch against his scalp is just the right kind of painful. She hooks a leg up and runs her foot up and down Dean's calf. One of his hands finds its way to her breast, and then he begins kneading it, massaging it. Meg groans into the kiss, and that's all the encouragement Dean needs to take her nipple between his fingers and alternate between rolling and pinching it. Meg breaks off from the kiss to gasp, arching against his hand.

Keeping one hand in Dean's hair, she lowers the other one between her legs, teasing around her clit before dipping it into her pussy, thrusting against them a few times. Dean switches between watching her pleasured expressions and watching her fingers work herself open. When she removes them, they’re wet with slick, and she traces her index finger across his bottom lip before he open his mouth, lapping her taste off her fingers, and it's one of the best damn aphrodisiacs he's ever experienced, the taste going straight to his dick.

And then Cas is beside him, guiding him into a kiss that's all tongue and teeth as he steals away the taste of Meg from Dean's lips. He slides Dean's jeans down his hips, and never in his life has Dean been so thankful he went commando because the less clothing involved, the better.

Cas presses the pad of an already lubed finger to Dean's hole, circling the rim slowly before pressing gently until just the tip of his finger slides in. Dean groans.

"So you were over there prepping, huh?" Meg teases. "Couldn't just watch your man fucking someone else."

"Shut up," Castiel commands, knotting a fist in her hair and kissing her with a ferocity he's never once shown Dean, but damn it's hot! Dean thinks he could probably watch them kiss all day as he rocks back against Cas's finger, which is thrusting in and out at a maddeningly slow pace.

When Cas finally resurfaces, he growls, "Be glad I'm sharing at all." Meg only laughs in response, the sound breathy and beautiful to Dean's ears.

Dean leans down to take one of Meg's nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting and licking around it, enjoying the soft gasps of Meg and Cas above him. When he glances to the side, he can see Meg has her hand wrapped around Cas's length, slowly moving her hand back and forth as Cas shallowly thrusts into her loose fist. Dean's cock jumps at the sight, twitching up against his stomach.

Dean groans as Cas inserts another finger, gently scissoring Dean open. Meg wraps her hand around his cheek and guides him up into another kiss just as Cas curls his fingers up and rubs against Dean's prostate. Sparks light up behind Dean's eyes, and he breaks away from the kiss to moan and pant against Meg's skin. She huffs a laugh against his ear.

"Clarence making you feel good, baby?" she coos.

Dean whimpers as Cas thrusts his fingers against his prostate again.

Meg kisses his temple and rubs his arm gently before taking his hand and leading it between her legs. Dean slips a finger in easily, head spinning at just how hot and wet she is. He only thrusts his hand a few times before easily adding another finger, while his thumb rubs back and forth against her clit, drawing forth high pitched keens and moans. Dean angles his fingers just right and then she's all but screaming, "Oh Dean, shit! Right there!"

Cas adds a third finger, pumping and stretching, while Dean kisses Meg deeply, tilting her head back against the mattress as he thrusts his fingers in and out of her. He wants to lick her open, put his face between her legs and actually taste her, but his dick is so hard it's almost painful. Next time, he promises himself, because this is all so great there has to be a next time.

"Need to - Need -" And shit, Dean can't even get it out. He just needs.

Meg giggles, and Cas presses a kiss to his shoulder.

"Get undressed," Cas says, "and I'll get the condoms."

Cas pulls his fingers out and walks to the bedside table, and Dean stands to kick off his pants. As he's pull his shirt over off, Meg starts to idly jack his dick, watching him with that cat-that-got-the-canary grin. It makes Dean's skin crawl in the best way. Just as Dean tips his head back, truly getting into the smooth drag of Meg hand across his dick, Cas comes up behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist and cockhead nudging insistently against his hole. Dean groans, twisting his head to press a kiss to the underside of Castiel's jaw and pressing his hips back, seeking out relief.

It almost comes as a surprise when Meg rolls the condom onto Dean dick and then sucks the whole thing down her throat like it's what she's been born to do. He chokes on the moan, tilting his head up just enough to watch her through heavy-lidded eyes, while Castiel sucks marks into his shoulder. The dual assault on his senses is too much, his hips thrusting back and forth against both of them.

"More," Dean groans, and he can feel Castiel's smile against his skin.

"So greedy," Cas teases, thrusting his hips forward, cock catching on Dean's rim, and it has Dean howling. "What more could you possibly want?"

"You," Dean pants. He twines his fingers into the dark curls on top of Meg's head. "Both of you."

Castiel hmmm's softly, acting like he's mulling it over, driving Dean crazy by drawing lines across Dean's stomach with his fingers. Finally, he says, "I think we can manage that."

Castiel reaches down and caresses Meg's cheek. She looks up at him and pulls off of Dean with a wet pop. She stands and reaches over Dean's shoulder for Cas, pulling him into a heady kissing, while Dean can only watch, transfixed. When they part, they each place a chaste kiss against Dean's lips.

"How do you want to do this, Clarence?" she asks. "Me on top, or me on bottom?"

"Which would you prefer?" Castiel asks.

Meg glances at Dean slyly. "How about we let our guest of honor here decide?"

Dean noses into the space above Meg's collarbone. "Don't care. Just want," we murmurs.

Meg gives a breathy laugh, lips brushing against the shell of Dean's ear in a barely there kiss. "Come on then, big boy."

She takes Dean's hand, laying down on the bed and guiding him on top of her. Once they're settled, Cas slots in behind Dean, hands going to his hips. Slowly, he presses forward, cock slowly sliding into Dean's hole. When he bottoms out, they sit there for a moment, panting, as Dean adjusts.

Meg hooks a leg up around the both of them, heel slotting into the dip of Castiel's back, urging them both forward. Both men groan at the sudden pressure.

Panting, Dean adjusts himself, thrusting forward into Meg, shutting his eyes and delving into the wet, hot slide of her around him. The feel of both of them, the pressure, the pleasure, is almost too much, and he doesn't see how he'll be able to last long.

He gives a few short, tentative thrusts, moving between thrusting into Meg and back onto Cas's hot length inside him. It only takes a few times before Cas seems to get into the groove, pulling back and thrusting forward in short, sharp stints, movement limited by Meg's legs around his back. The final piece slots into place as Meg starts bucking her hips up to meet Dean's thrusts. They manage to find a rhythm, fire winding tight in Dean's gut and sweat dripping down his back, and the chorus of their moans and gasps filling the room in an ever-rising cacophony. Meg's nails bite into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and Cas quickly leans in to soothe the pain.

Dean's orgasm rips through him like a tidal wave, violent and all encompassing, his body not sure which way is up and which is down as he rides it out. When he comes back to himself, Cas is still moving behind him, uncoordinated and chasing his own release like his life depends on it. Meg is staring up at him, sated, chest heaving with her breasts.

"I love him him like this," she praises, watching Cas over his shoulder.

"Me too," Dean whispers, not having to look back to know just what she's talking about. It's with no small amount of pride that he think he's  the one who gets to do this to Cas. Only him.

Finally, Cas rasps a shout, hips snapping forward, pumping as deeply into Dean as he can, before his movements eventually still. He pulls out of Dean as gently as he can, falling onto the bed beside Meg.

It’s with two of the most gorgeous people he's ever seen below him that Dean realizes New York was definitely the right move.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my hardest not to make the sex and Dean's drug use creepy, and I think I mostly managed?
> 
> Also, huge shout out to my mother! She supported this chapter far more than a mother should lol. I was finishing writing it while on the plane for us to go see her family, and she helped write the porn lol. She also was kind enough to lend me her computer to help make the editing process easier since I only brought my tablet. So yay mom for supporting her daughter's hobby of writing intoxicated threesome porn! 
> 
> You can follow me on [tumblr](http://kanoitrace.tumblr.com)! I'm pretty friendly!


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